Harry Potter and the House of Black
by noriboriman
Summary: Harry in Slytherin House, with Daphne Greengrass... Please read and review... XP
1. Chapter 1

The boy stood almost apart from the others, except for the thin boy and a beautiful beside him. There he was, standing along with the other first years in the middle of the four House tables. He looked as if he was bewildered with everything around him, astonishment was more like. Severus Snape, the Potions Master, studied the boy's face intently, he seem to be not of Potter stock, although he was handsome and has his mother's eyes. Black hair, unruly, with round glasses, it's as if James Potter was alive yet younger. And yet…

The boy shifted on his feet, he fidgeted as he studied his surroundings. The ceiling was enchanted, he remembered some girl in front of him said. He watched as the dark clouds on it shifted, revealing in little detail the starry sky they hid. His eyes explored the suits of armour standing in attention in the sides of the great hall where they were escorted. He stared at the stone walls, some having chink on them. Harry Potter, nephew of Edward and Petunia Potter and the Boy-who-lived, had finally come to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft an Wizardry.

"Harry," the girl said beside him. Harry turned, and then smiled. "Hello, Daphne."

Daphne Greengrass, one of the few friends he has, turned towards him, her flowing black hair hanging loose behind her. She was beautiful, being one of the Pure-blooded Wizarding families left.

"You're drifting away, Harry," she said. "So, do you think we would be in the same House?"

"House?"

"Yeah. You know, like Slytherin, Ravenclaw,…"

"As if," the thin boy muttered.

"What are you trying to say, Greg?" Daphne said to the thin boy.

Gregory Potter, son of Edward and Petunia Potter, sniffed and turned away. He was dark-haired, slightly taller than Harry and he eyed everyone with a knowing glance, as if he knew what each person was thinking of. He looked at Harry, and winked. Harry smiled.

"So Harry, do think we would be in the same House?" Daphne said, hopeful.

"Oh, yeah. I kind of… like to be in the same House as you."

Daphne blushed and smiled. "Oh, Harry. You always say unnecessary things."

Greg rolled his eyes. "What did I say?" Harry asked looking at her, puzzled. She looked at the floor, casting furtive glances towards him. He scratched his head. He turned his attention back to the front when the old lady who escorted them cleared her throat.

"Attention, please. The Sorting will now begin," she said. Numerous murmurs were heard from everybody except from a group of old people at the head of the hall. They were situated on a raised dais, their faces a mirade of expressions.

"They must be the professors," whispered Daphne to Harry, straining her neck as to see what Harry was looking at. Harry was still studying the faces of the people on the dais, (there were two people who were also staring back at him, a very old man and a greasy-haired man with a repugnant expression on his face), when he saw someone bring out a battered old hat and put it on a stool. It was unusual, but then again, he remembered his letter of acceptance to this school was delivered by an owl, and that was unusual.

He stared at the old hat when it suddenly burst into song. He listened intently, however he never particularly liked old rhymes ever since as a child, so he did not remember the whole song.

After the hat's song, (which when ended, was met by loud clapping from everybody, even from among the first years), the old lady started calling out names from a long list of paper. Each person called, all from the first years as he saw their numbers dwindling, put the hat on. The hat would then shout a name of House, to which the student would be assigned.

"Greengrass, Daphne," the old lady called.

"See you later, Harry," she said, as she walked towards the front. Daphne sat on the stool and put on the hat. After a while, a horizontal slit on the lower part of the hat shouted, "SYTHERIN!"

Daphne danced towards the Slytherin table, amidst the clapping and cheering. Many names were called after her, each student eager and afraid at the same time.

"Malfoy, Draco," called the old lady. A boy with sleek-backed blonde hair and a haughty expression on his face marched towards the front. He sat on the stool, but before the hat touched his head it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

"That was quick," Greg muttered to Harry, who only nodded as he watched the blonde boy take a seat in the Slytherin table. Finally, it was the Potter boys' turns.

"Potter, Gregory."

"See you soon, Harry," he said as he waved. He sat in the front and sighed as the old lady put the hat on Greg's head. It was awhile before it said anything, and it suddenly burst out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Gryffindor table welcomed loudly the new addition to their students, clapping and congratulating him.

"Potter, Harry."

The hall became silent, no one stirred, spoke, or even moved. Harry felt all the eyes in the room watching him as he walked towards the stool. when he had sat down, the old lady put the hat on him. He was startled when he suddenly heard a voice.

"Hmmm, Potter eh. You're not a Potter, as far as I can see. Nevertheless, you have great courage, cunning and intelligence to boot, and a will to prove yourself. Ah, I know where to put you…"

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat shouted. Everyone was astounded, no one moved until the Headmaster, (the old man that was watching Harry), clapped his hands. Everyone followed his example, although reluctantly. They were thinking why Harry Potter, the one who vanquished He-who-must-not-be-named, be put in the same House as the Dark Lord. It was not right.

Harry made his way towards the Slytherin table, and took his seat next to Daphne, who smiled and held his hand. He smiled weakly at her, and then glanced from across the room to his cousin. Gregory was talking to some older students, but he caught Harry's glance and winked at him. He gestured about something, and Harry nodded.

After the Sorting, the Headmaster stood up and said a few words. Food appeared before the students after the speech. Harry and Daphne ate enthusiastically, there were dishes that they have never tried before and they sampled them as much as they can. They turned to look at Gregory and saw that he too, was eating with much gusto. So, they turned back to their food and ate more heartily, and they seem to rather enjoy themselves.

After dinner, they were led by their respective prefects to their dormitories. Gregory waved at Harry and Daphne as they passed by each other, Gryffindors were going up the stairs towards their tower, while the Slytherins were led downwards towards the dungeons. Daphne gripped at Harry's sleeve as they went ever down, the passages dark save for the light of the torches on the walls. They walked in silence, the prefects explaining and directing the group towards the common room.

When the first-years arrived in the common room, they were amazed with the grandness of it. The wall to their left as they enter was a smooth black, "A mirror to the Black Lake," explained the girl-prefect. To their right were two flights of stairs, and directly in from of them was a large fireplace, over which was a tapestry of a sallow-faced man with a grim countenance. He was dressed in shades of green, silver, and black, and he was holding a snake's head while its body wound around his. It was Salazar Slytherin, as the boy-prefect had said to them.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: thanks to all those who have read my new story, i hope to hear from all of you often... i am in need of a beta-reader, any one can and may apply, please... here is a new chapter on the story, enjoy... XP**

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Azkaban, the dreadful Wizarding prison of the British Isles, stood menacingly and forbidding on an island somewhere off the Atlantic. The weathered stones have dead moss and dead creeping ivy growing over them. A cloud of fog continuously wrapped around the ancient fortress, a patina of sleek and ice cover some parts of the walls and windows. Wraith-like creatures were walking about its surroundings, or a twisted imitation of walking, Dementors.

Surrounding the ancient fortress were stone structures very much like itself. Stone pillars, monuments to some ancient persons, and other related structures dotted the bleak landscape. Ancient and rotting trees grew amongst stone, their gnarly branches bare of leaves for centuries at least. The stillness of the cold and heavy air was undisturbed, the landscape was devoid of any life.

A stone path led from the front door downhill to the beach of the island. A dock of some kind was built along the beach, its rotting wood creaking whenever the wind blows, which was each moment. It was not as ancient as the massive building, although it was not fairly new either. Frozen specimens of barnacles cover the lower half of the wooden legs of the dock. It looked as if the whole of it would collapse if as much as a butterfly fluttered on it, not that there was anything on the island that flutters except for the tattered, rotting cloaks of the Dementors.

A rowboat broke through the mist, its three occupants huddling in their cloaks as they set for the dock. The first one was pointing a wand at the person in the middle of the boat, he was wearing a magenta turban and a rather curious-looking cloak of unknown material. His beady eyes never left the person in the middle, a woman who was covered from head to foot with black sackcloth, another prisoner for the hungry Dementors. The last person was a rather short man, somewhat rotund, who was wearing a top hat, a red-and-black suit with a green shirt and a sickly-green tie, as if he had just vomited something green. His wand was also out, pointed at the woman, his wide eyes darting to and fro. A scream pierced the air.

"What do you reckon that was, Rajesh?" the man asked in a rather high voice, his wide eyes growing wider. He took his handkerchief from a pocket and wiped his face. He was now sweating profusely, his eyes now seeing the outline of the imposing prison.

"I will not know," the man with the turban, Rajesh, answered. "I think she would, soon enough."

"Ahaha… ha…," the man laughed, half-heartedly.

He looked at the still woman in front of him, her form indented through the sackcloth she wore. Her shackled hands were lying on her lap the whole time, no word escaped from her lips. Her black hair seem to shimmer down her back, she was beautiful. Her lips were a pale red, her eyes downcast and without life. Her porcelain skin was unmarred, her feet unclad. This was a woman who had resigned herself to her fate.

"Ripley, why are you so nervous about?" Rajesh asked, his eyes still looking at the woman.

Ripley removed his top hat, his hand was shaking. He accidentally threw his hat into the water, making a plopping sound. He stared at it for a moment, and then shook his head. "I don't know."

The boat came adjacent to the dock. Rajesh alighted first, and then the woman, his wand now pointed at her back. Ripley stammered something about guarding the boat, had stayed wiping his sweaty brows and looking about with furtive eyes.

Rajesh and the woman went up towards the fortress, their footfalls the only sound. The hard stones dug at the woman's feet, yet no sound escaped her lips. They marched silently towards the door of the building and stopped in front of it.

"Pull the cord on your left," Rajesh commanded, pushing the woman towards it. She did accordingly, a sound of a big bell echoed across the landscape. They waited, and then massive wooden door opened. He pushed the woman towards the portal and said, "Good riddance, Miss De Lyon." And with that the wooden doors creaked shut behind her back.

"What took you so long?" asked Ripley upon Rajesh's return. Rajesh's face was pale although his expression was grim and brooding. He did not answer, he just waved his wand and the boat moved away from the island. Ripley stole another look towards the grey landscape and sighed.

The woman stood alone as if waiting for something, the door had solidly shut behind her. A Dementor detached itself from the shadows and gestured to her to walk towards her right. They walked passed by several cells, some occupied, while others were vacant. There was a scream from somewhere, the woman involuntarily shuddered. She was escorted to an empty cell, where she sat down on a corner. She heard a metallic clang, then a metallic lock. The cold stones only heightened her discomfort, and she shuddered again.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: hey guys, its a new chapter... i really like to hear more from you... i know i don't often write reply messages, i'm sorry for it and i hope to write more responses to you guys... well anyway, thanks for the support... XP**

* * *

"So, you're the great Harry Potter," the blond boy from the Sorting Ceremony came towards Harry and Daphne.

"What's his name?" whispered Harry to Daphne, but before she answers the boy spoke.

"I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," the blond boy. Holding his hand out he looked at Harry and said, "You should know who to befriend in this place, I can help you there."

Harry looked at the offered hand, looked at Daphne, then shrugged and clasped it in his own.

"Yeah, sure."

Draco smiled, "Good, good. By the way, this is Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom are friends of mine." Two troll-like boys grunted from behind Malfoy.

"This is Daphne Greengrass, a very good friend of mine," indicated Harry. Daphne offered her hand, which Malfoy caught and kissed its back.

"Enchanted, miss," he said.

Daphne blushed. She stammered about something, but then the boys' attention was reverted back to the girl-prefect as she cleared her throat.

"Boy's dormitories are on the right stairs, the girl's left," she drew from her robes pieces of parchment, which she handed to each student.

"These are your dormitory assignments, find your roommates and head on up to your rooms. Your trunks and other things are already in your assigned rooms. Lights out in thirty minutes," gruff-looking boy-prefect ordered.

"See you tomorrow then, Harry," Daphne called.

"Good night, Daphne," said Harry. He went up and made his way towards his room.

He was the first one there. He was amazed at the grandness of it. A heating brazier was located in the middle of the room, and around it were five poster-beds with green hangings. The walls of the room were of cold stone, with the occasional spot of wood on top of the headboards of the beds. The floor was of flagstones, however it felt kind of warm even if the walls were cool and somewhat mossy.

Harry went to his trunk of things, at the bottom of the bed right beside the door. Opening it he drew his spare tie and robes, he was a somewhat surprised when they were altered a little. In place of the Hogwarts crest, it was replaced with the Slytherin crest. And his ties were now of green and silver motif, instead of the solid red it was not a long time ago.

Looking down, he saw that even the robes and tie he was wearing were changed into the appropriate uniform. He was rather pleased, he only saw magic when he visited Daphne at her home during summer.

The door to the room opened and two boys came in. One of them was dark-skinned, speaking with an accent. Harry suspected he was Italian, because of one of visitors that came in his uncle's office has the same accent, Vittorio Tribianni.

"As I was saying Nott,…" he stopped when he saw Harry, who was fixing his things. Nott, the brown-haired boy who was obviously English, smiled as he saw Harry.

"Eh, so Harry Potter's our roommate, Zabini."

Zabini smiled as well, "Bona sera, I'm Blaise Zabini. This is Theodore Nott, nice to meet you, Harry Potter.

Harry smiled, "Hello." He rummaged through his things until he found his pyjamas. The two boys, Nott and Zabini, took the beds beside Harry's and promptly put their things in order. The door opened and a sandy-haired boy entered. He was a bit small and wiry, but he was handsome.

The three boys looked up, Harry was in the process of fixing his beddings, Nott was putting on his pyjamas, and Zabini was reading a book on his bed.

"Uh, hello. I'm Ever McClaren, nice to meet you," the little Scot waved.

"Hello, I'm Harry. That's Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini," Harry said as he pointed at the others, climbing on to his bed. Zabini, looked up from his book, and then went back to it. Nott waved and said, "I'm Ted. He's Blaise."

"You can choose any bed you like." He indicated the two remaining beds. One was nearer the bathroom, and the other was by a stone wall. McClaren chose the one near the bathroom, and prepared to settle down for the night.

The door to the dormitories opened suddenly and in walked Draco Malfoy. He took in the room setting and eyed McClaren. With a huff, he walked towards the Scot and exclaimed, "This is my bed. Go and sleep in that bed over there."

The three other boys looked over at the wiry Scot, whose facial expression turned from smiling to frightened. Draco smiled, "Come on, I haven't got all day."

"You shouldn't do that, Malfoy," Theodore Nott said, walking up beside Ever McClaren. Draco scowled at the brown-haired boy. Nott, crossing his arms, glared at Malfoy. Zabini had also stood up and flanked McClaren's other side. Harry clasped the blond boy on his shoulder with his right hand and said, "Give it up, Draco. The last bed's yours since you where late to come in and choose for yourself."

"You're taking their side, Potter?" asked Malfoy. "I thought I made it clear to you to choose your friends wisely."

Harry sighed, "Yes, but now I think I know who my friends would be."

Malfoy glared at the gathered boys, looking from Zabini on McClaren's right side, to Harry, who was on his. His face went red, and he was breathing hard through his flaring nostrils. Shrugging Harry's hand on his shoulder, he marched right to the unoccupied bed and closed the curtains about it.

"You okay, mate?" Nott asked Ever, who was staring at Malfoy's closed bed with a bewildered face. Zabini glanced at Malfoy's bed, and then went back to his bed, after he saw McClaren nodded at Nott's query. Harry shook his head, and then went back to his bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: sorry for a very long hiatus... writer's block and various work would do it... :P**

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**Somewhere in the Northern British Seas, 1145? BC**

A brown-robed hooded figure shuffled on his way, as if some malevolent spirit has been dogging him all the way. He was walking rather odd, it was as if one of his legs is longer than the other and it was somewhat impeding him to walk faster. He was sweating profusely, his lips quivering and muttering things under his breath.

He was tripping on stones as he hurriedly walked towards the hulking stone fortress just above the hill. It was the only building on the island, and its presence oppressed anyone who even dared step foot on it, not that there were anyone courageous enough to. The man was shivering as he walked towards the imposing building, his companions trailing behind him. They wore black robes with a coat-of-arms on their left breast, and they wore their hoods low on their heads.

They entered through a large archway, flanked by chained beasts that, upon seeing the newcomers, snarled and tried to hurl themselves towards their intended prey. The limping man cringed visibly, while his companions just stood there. He hurriedly went inside, with them following and left the roaring beasts.

The light from the torches in their sconces flickered as the figure shuffled his way past, their warmth unfelt as the coldness from the stonewalls lingered in the air. He passed large wooden doors, some with deep cuts on them. A scream pierced the quiet atmosphere, startling the man. He led them down a flight of stone stairs, and let them in a room with nothing in it. He promptly left them, cringing again as another scream echoed in the corridor. Its sounded as if it was somewhere near.

He hurriedly walked up the stairs, almost stumbling as his foot often caught the top of each step. He searched for something as he went towards another corridor; it was lined with the same wooden doors. He stopped at end of the corridor, large iron double-doors impeding his progress. They almost reached the ceiling, their massiveness imposed on him their importance and of the room they guarded. He grasped a large thick rope by the doorframe and pulled it. A loud iron clang came from within, followed by a silken voice.

"Enter," it commanded.

With a trembling hand he pushed one of the large doors, and awkwardly entered with his head bowed low, slowly walking towards the dais. He cautiously looked around; the room was bare, saved for the silver throne on top of the dais. A black-robed man sat on the high-backed throne, stiff-backed, pale, and with graying shoulder-length hair. His robe has emerald-green lining, and it reached down to the foot of the throne. His piercing cold blue eyes were surveying the limping man, as if he was searching the man's very soul.

"What do want, Llyr?" the voice was velvety soft, yet it was cold. It pierced Llyr's very soul, as if a cold vise had gripped his heart and wrenched it from his chest.

"Milord," his voice shaking, his head still hooded and bowed, "they are awaitin' yer orders."

"Ah," the man on the throne stood up, and strode towards Llyr, who cringed involuntarily as the robed man neared him.

"You have done well, Llyr."

"Thank you, milord," Llyr said, trembling at the proximity of the man. He could feel the power emanating from the pale man.

"Now, my disciples would truly live to their name."

"Yes, milord."

"We must go now. Lead on, Llyr, my Dementors are waiting," he said, standing up. His obsidian robes flowed from him, his aquiline nose turned up and a slight sneer played on his lips.

He led the way out of the throne room, the torches in their sconces flickered and dimmed as he passed by. Llyr saw they blazed alive once more as their lord were no longer near them.

"Do not keep me waiting, Llyr," the dark-robed man called out.

"Y-yes, m-m-m-milord," he answered, rather shakingly.

* * *

**Present Day, Hogwarts**

Harry Potter awoke in cold sweat; his breath came in short gasps as he stared unseeing on the green and black bed sheets. He tried to remember where he was, and then it hit him. He was in Hogwarts, and it was his first term there learning about magic and other magical things. He had survived the initial week, and he was becoming accustomed to regimen of being a student of magic.

He listened for a while, as he tried to calm his thundering heart. He tried to think of his dream, and why he woke up, but he could not. He then tried to think of something else, of his friends and their adventures so far. His new friends came from some of the more influential Wizarding families. Blaise Zabini, a dark-skinned handsome boy, was regarded as a hard-to-please society gentleman. He was one of those haughty wizards who regarded only a few people to be his equal, anybody else were scum.

Theodore Nott, a pale skinny boy with brown hair, was intelligent and very clever. He was always dragging them to the library, which Blaise encouraged, and they were there the whole week. Ever McClaren, the wiry and shy Scot, always trailed behind them, snickering at their jokes, and was rather like a shadow. They were a diverse group, and they were now seen together every time.

Lessons for that week went rather well, especially the flying lessons, and Harry and his friends rather liked it, since it involved, well, flying. The very first flying lesson was entertaining at the very least. Since it was a lesson of Slytherins with Gryffindors, Harry introduced his new friends to his cousin, Greg, and his friends, a red-headed boy by the name of Ronald, and a bushy brunette named Hermione.

However, events during this brief reunion proved to be a stepping stone for the enmity between Harry and Malfoy. Malfoy, still nursing the wound inflicted upon his person on that first night, eyed Harry's group with cold venom. His companions/bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle were also looking menacingly towards their group.

"He does not have anything to show for it," said Blaise Zabini one day.

They were lounging around the Slytherin common room area that afternoon, for their classes had ended rather early. Their professor, Quirinus Quirrel, had a little 'accident' with one of the magical creatures he had brought for demonstration for the sixth and seventh-years. They were all grouped around one of the couches, and everybody was doing something.

Blaise Zabini was sprawled on the entire length of the couch, looking at all the females passing by him, smiling and waving a little to a few of them. Theodore Nott was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, and has his nose buried in his book again, another one of those he had borrowed from the library. Harry Potter and Ever McClaren were seated on either side of Nott, talking with each other about their experiences with their new school, when they heard Zabini's comment.

Harry looked at Blaise, and turned to where the latter was staring at. He espied Malfoy, with his goons, seated in a corner murmuring something to the two and sneering at them. Harry shrugged and said, "Just let it go, Blaise. He's our roommate, leave him be."

"Do you think he'll come around?" asked McClaren.

"I don't know," Harry answered, sighing a little.

"I don't think so," said Nott without looking up.

"I'm with Nott," said Blaise.

"Why couldn't you just call me Ted?" asked Theodore, slamming his book shut and staring at his friend.

Blaise just shrugged his shoulders and went back to his favorite sport, girl-watching. Ted raised his eyes and muttered something, while Harry and Ever were trying not to laugh at their friend's expense.

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**A/N: **this is a very late update... hope to hear from all of you... :P


	5. Chapter 5

**New Chapter after sooooooo looooooooooong... sorry for the wait...**

* * *

The room was dark, save for the light coming from the fireplace. A man sits on a high-backed leather chair, wringing his hands and his eyes kept darting from everywhere in the room. His breathing was a bit hurried, and despite the coldness of the room he was sweating.

"But, Master," he was saying, "you are still unwell."

"Silence!" wheezed a high-pitched man's voice. It coughed a few times, and a tremor went through the seated man's body. He was clearly flustered, and he often averted his eyes whenever he saw movements that occur in the shadows of the room. He fidgeted, he seem to be very much afraid of the person he was talking to.

"I know what you are thinking?" the voice wheezed again, followed by a series of wracking cough.

"I'm sorry, Master," the man said, his hands still trembling.

"We must take it as soon as possible," continued by the voice. "The old man might think of moving it, thus we must act before that happens."

"Yes, Master," the man answered.

"You must find it, and do not dawdle anymore," ordered by the voice.

"But, Master, I―" began the man.

"Silence!" wheezed the voice, followed by another bout of coughing. "The sooner you find it, the better it is for you and I."

"Ye-yes, Master," answered the man.

* * *

"Is there, or there isn't?" Theodore Nott asked Blaise Zabini.

They were lounging in the Slytherin Common Room, with their friends Harry Potter and Ever McClaren. Harry was reading a book about Quidditch that he had borrowed from the library, and Ever was drawing on some parchment with a pencil. The two was sitting in front of the sofa, where Blaise and Nott sat. An open ink well with a quill in it was among the implements on the table, and their school books were left unopened. Blaise was doing what he always does, watching the girls walking by. Nott has an open book on his lap, but he was still asking Blaise what the dark-skinned boy had seen that very afternoon.

"Is there what?" asked Blaise, still watching the girls that were passing by.

"Is there a monster on the third floor corridor, or there isn't?"

"I wouldn't know," Blaise answered.

"There was some rumors circulating around that you and Harry had encountered some sort of monstrous being lurking in the shadows of the third floor corridor, forbidden to us by the headmaster himself," Nott said.

"That's a mouthful of words," whispered Ever to Harry, who nodded and snickered.

"What was that?" Nott asked rather hotly at the two.

"Don't shout, Ted," Harry said, "Ever's just being humorous."

"Yeah, Nott," Blaise cut in. "Look, I'll tell you what really happened."

* * *

After their classes, Blaise and Harry were talking with some of the second-year Hufflepuff girls, when they accidentally wandered to the third-floor corridor. This particular corridor was forbidden by the headmaster, but they inadvertently came to be there when the stairs changed while they were on it. The four girls huddled together, trying to keep themselves from screaming. Blaise and Harry walked in front, their wands out and ready.

"Would you procure a Lumos spell, darling?" Blaise asked one of the girls.

The girl took her wand with trembling hands, and almost dropped it. She whispered, "Lumos," and the end of her wand produced a small ball of light. "A-a-are you sure this is the wa-way out?"

"Yes, darling," Blaise assured the girls, and winked at the four girls. He then turned towards Harry and whispered, "We're going towards the exit, right?"

Harry just shrugged, and concentrated on the corridor ahead. The two boys kept looking everywhere, and they were clearly sweating now. The girls were trembling, and audibly gulped whenever they thought they saw movement in the shadows. After a while, the little group saw a small wooden door at the end of the dark corridor, and two of the girls sighed loudly.

"A door," one said. Blaise just nodded, and nudged Harry.

"I'll open the door," Harry said to Blaise, "and you'll take care of the girls."

Blaise nodded, and winked at the girls. "Don't be afraid, girls. Harry and I would take care of this situation."

Harry rolled his eyes, expect Blaise to hit on girls even in a dire situation. Harry tried to remember what his cousin's friend, Hermione Granger, taught him to open locks. And then, he remembered. He pointed his wand towards the lock.

"Alohomora," Harry whispered.

The lock issued a small click, and the door swung opened. A strong stench wafted forth from the opened door, and the girls had their handkerchiefs to their noses in an instant.

"Whoh, what a lovely bouquet," Blaise commented.

Harry entered the dark room, and motioned for the others to follow. The girls entered next, and then Blaise. A gust of wind coming from nowhere shut the door the huddled students, they were all surprised. A loud snort, three separate sniffing, and a low, throaty growl filled the whole room. Three sharp breaths later, the four girls screamed.

* * *

"And then, we dashed out from that room, and ran straight into Professor Quirrel," Blaise concluded. "That's what happened."

"So, is there, or there isn't a monster?" Nott asked.

"There is, Nott."

"So, there isn't?"

"No, no. There is, Nott," Blaise answered.

"Which is it?"

"There is, a three-headed monstrosity with bad breath and drool-problem."

The four friends were quiet for a moment, not one would want to break the silence. Many students passed by, some watched the quartet. Blaise nudged Harry, who turned at the place where Zabini was pointing at. He smiled, a haggle of girls were failing to conceal their fascination for the friends. He looked at Blaise, who nodded slightly and stood up. Zabini fixed himself despite looking rather dashing, and winked at Harry. Harry stood up, and followed Blaise towards the girls.

"Hello, ladies," Blaise began, his smile captivating the attention of the girls, "Is it alright for my friend and I to join your little group?"

"Yeah, is it alright?" Harry said.

The girls blushed, looked at each other, and then nodded shyly at the two boys. Blaise and Harry looked at each other, and smiled. They sat at the small spaces the girls made for them, and soon they chatted with each other. Ever watched the group, and then went back to his drawing with a sigh. Nott did not even glance when Blaise and Harry stood up and went towards the group, he continued his reading with a very audible harrumph. It was already midnight when the Slytherin Common Room emptied of students.


	6. Chapter 6

**New Chapter after sooooooo looooooooooong... sorry for the wait...**

* * *

Halloween came rather fast for the students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the Great Hall is yet again decorated for the occasion. The four tables of the four Houses are filled students eating, drinking and talking rather animatedly with each other. Above the tables, the floating jack-o-lanterns grinned eerily, while the ghosts mingled with the students and each other.

On the head of the teachers' table, Albus Dumbledore watched a young student in Slytherin. He sipped some wine from his goblet, his eyes not leaving the boy. He watched as the boy laughed with his friends, thinking that it was just right for the boy to enjoy the little things that life has to offer, after all he was deprived of it in some way.

On the right end of the same table, Severus Snape was also watching Harry Potter. He could not even fathom the reason how the boy came to be in his House. Slytherin was the former House of everyone involved during the First Wizard War, and those who killed the boy's parents. He watched the boy, as he himself speared the steak on his plate and sliced a piece. He almost choked, good thing Irma Pince sat next to him and immediately gave him some of her beverage to drink. Snape cursed, it was very unlike of him to be affected this way. Why was he intrigued by the very presence of Harry Potter?

* * *

Harry sat beside Blaise Zabini on the Slytherin table, while Ever McClaren and Theodore Nott sat opposite them. They were happily laughing about what happened to Nott that very afternoon, much to the chagrin of the very red boy.

"Did you see her face when he asked her?" Blaise asked in between guffaws.

Ever and Harry just nodded, they were trying to contain their laughter. Their plates were almost untouched, except for some missing slices on the steak. McClaren was slapping his hand on the table, his other held his fork with a piece of grilled fish. Harry was holding his belly, and was rocking back and forth trying to contain his laughter.

"Harry," Daphne Greengrass asked, "what are you talking about?"

The Slytherin girl was sitting on the other side of Harry, and she interrupted her conversation with her friends to listen to the story the boys were talking about. The girls near her were also watching the four boys. They stopped eating to listen to the amusing story, one of them has her fork midway towards her mouth.

"Nothing amusing happens to them," Draco Malfoy, who was listening to the conversation, said with a wave of his hand.

"Says who, Mister Thicko," Blaise asked, his eyebrow arched.

"Och! This bettae be werth it," Ever exclaimed, a fork in his left and a knife in his right.

Harry just looked at Draco with a something like pity, while Theodore Nott went back to eating while shaking his head. The girls, including Daphne, looked at Draco with venomous eyes, which were not lost on the blonde boy. With a harrumph, Malfoy stood up with his two lackeys, and went to another part of the table.

"He seems to be afraid of you, Ever," Harry said, watching Malfoy's haughty displays. Apparently, he was telling everybody near him what had happened to poor him.

The group went back to eating, with a slight snicker from Blaise, and their own conversation. Ever, having finished first, pushed his plate and told his friends that he would be going to their room. Harry and Theodore nodded, while Blaise waved his hand. The Scot gathered his things, and promptly went out the Great Hall.

"What was the amusing thing that happened today, Harry?" Daphne asked.

"Will you please let it go," Theodore said, his ears red.

Blaise laughed, his fist slamming against the table. Harry snickered, and whispered in Daphne's ear. She blushed, and giggled a bit. Nott covered his face in his hands, all the while shaking his head, as if to erase the memory.

"What did he say, Daphne?" a girl to Daphne's right asked.

"Not you, too," Nott said, which elicited laughter from the other two boys.

"Well," Blaise began, "if you must know, Nott was having thoughts of―"

The door of the Great Hall burst open, and in came a running, gasping, very sweaty Professor Quirrel.

"Troll in the Dungeons! Troll in the Dungeons!" he shouted. "Thought you should know." And then he fainted.

A second ticked by, and then there was pandemonium in the hall. Students yelling and panicking, with a great deal of pushing and running towards the exit. Harry, Blaise, and Theodore all looked at each other and uttered one word, "Ever."

* * *

Ever McClaren walked slowly along the lighted corridor, rummaging through his bag. He uttered a soft "Aha!" when he bumped into someone. It was Professor Quirrel, whose eyes were wild and glittering. With a mumbled apology, the teacher hurried along towards the hall Ever just left. Ever often wondered why the professor's head was always covered by a turban when he does not look like from India.

Ever shook his head, his auburn hair swaying along with each movement. He ran, towards the forked end of the corridor. He turned right, towards the dungeons, and he slowed down to a walk. He took out his wand and the new book he had gotten from the library that afternoon, and he went towards the dungeons.

He heard a low growl, accompanied by the sound of heavy wood being dragged along the stone floor. He hid behind a stone pillar, and waited for something to appear. He was not disappointed, when he spotted a huge, stinking figure. There was a troll wandering in the school, and Ever does not know what to do. He was still deliberating when he saw the troll wandering towards the stairs, and then he decided to follow. Ever McClaren, of the Highland Clan of McClaren, knew he was going to regret that decision, but he steeled himself and followed the creature.

* * *

The trio fell behind the milling Slytherins that were exiting the Great Hall, whispering amongst themselves. Daphne and the girls were trying to come nearer to them, but the students were panicking so they were further pushed away from them. There were much mumbling and chattering amongst the students, and the teachers have all disappeared.

"No wandering around," the Slytherin boy-prefect shouted over the din of the students.

Daphne watched helplessly as she saw three students break away from the Slytherin group, and she knew those boys. She tried to follow them, but the crowd kept her from getting to her destination.

"Daphne," a mousy girl called her, "where are Harry and Blaise?"

"I don't know where they are Bridget. Even Theodore Nott's here," she answered.

"Hermione!" a boy's voice called.

Daphne turned towards the sound, "Greg!"

Gregory Potter, the tall and thin cousin of Harry's, was wandering the corridor from where Daphne and the Slytherins were milling about. He was accompanied by a lanky, flame-haired boy, who was a bit taller than Greg. Greg's eyes wandered around looking for Daphne, who was waving her hand above the heads of the huddled students. He grinned when he saw her, and motioned for the other boy to come with him.

"Hey, Daphne," Greg waved. "What are you milling about?" He pointed at the Slytherins, who were glaring at the two boys from Gryffindor. Greg was still grinning, even with all of the milled students' intense hatred. "You remember Ron Weasley?"

"Hi," the lanky boy said, his face a myriad of emotion. He smiled at Daphne quickly, followed by apprehension, fear, and then anger. He scowled at the glares of the Slytherins.

"Please, Greg, Harry and his friends are gone," Daphne said.

"Oh no," Greg exclaimed, his hand slapping his forehead. "Not again."

"Will you please look for him?"

"Ok," Greg said. He motioned to Ron with a jerk of his head, and the two left. Daphne waved before the two went out of sight.

* * *

**a chapter finished...**


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